


Dreams in the Hollow

by ladybubblegum



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Dad!Derek, Deputy Derek Hale, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 18:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3988984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladybubblegum/pseuds/ladybubblegum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott McCall is a tragically single veterinary assistant with the world's most boring life--until mysterious single dad Derek Hale moves into his apartment building.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> story based on [this post](http://brinkleytown.tumblr.com/post/114180121269/dont-even-try-to-tell-me-thats-not-derek-hale) (with a few small tweaks)
> 
> many many thanks to [fandumbgirl](http://fandumbgirl.tumblr.com) for the beta!

Scott was going to kill his roommate. 

He seethed as he waited in the longest grocery store line in the entire world, uncomfortably shifting his heavy basket from hand to hand. It had been Stiles' turn to do the shopping that week, and was supposed to do so on Wednesday night, when the store would be quiet and he could be in and out. But of course, Stiles had forgotten--and had failed to tell Scott until two hours ago on Friday night. It had taken him 20 minutes just to find a parking space.

The line took him an hour to get through,after which he was thoroughly sick of staring at the back of the head of the person in front of him, cursing his roommate and his own terrible taste in best friends. Eventually, finally, he was out of the store and in the quiet peacefulness of his car, heading home. 

It wasn't until he pulled into his usual parking spot in his building's lot that he realized his error. Stiles procrastinating on the shopping meant there was more to do; the usual two paper bags had turned into four, and Stiles wasn't answering his phone.

Sighing, Scott lifted the bags as best as he could into his arms. He wasn't in terrible shape, but he also didn't exactly work out every day. The second he took his first step toward the door, he felt the strain in his arms, but even as he realized he wasn't going to make it, he powered on.

He made it about five feet from the front door before a bag slipped and tumbled to the ground, sending groceries everywhere amid the distinct sound of glass breaking.

“Awesome,” Scott grumbled, gingerly setting the rest of his load on the ground and turning to the mess on the sidewalk. The bag was torn and useless now-- and not for the first time, Scott regretted watching that documentary about waste and recycling that convinced him to make his life greener. He began to gather his items together, trying to figure out how he was going to get it all inside, and was therefore too preoccupied to notice the presence of a man behind him until he spoke.

“Need help with that?”

Relieved, Scott turned his head, and was about to say something along the lines of “Ohmygod, _yes_ ” when he got a good look at the guy.

Standing before him was the most gorgeous man he’d ever seen.

He stood about 6’2”, black hair styled perfectly into place without looking too done-up. He had dark facial hair that was more than a 5 o’clock shadow but wasn't what one would call a beard--it made him look rugged, but the “I drive dirt bikes on the weekend for fun” kind of rugged. He obviously worked out, muscles just slightly stretching out the short sleeves of the button-down beige cotton shirt he wore. A gold badge gleamed on his shirt pocket.

Holy shit. Mr. Gorgeous was a freaking _deputy_.

With a jolt, Scott realized he was kind of staring. He opened his mouth to reply with something smooth and eloquent, but what came out was, “Uh. y--uh. Um. Yyyeah?”

_Way to go, Scott. Now you just have to drool on the guy and the seduction will be complete._

The guy smiled and bent down to help, and _goddamn_ somehow he was even prettier up close.

“I’m Derek,” the guy offered, placing a can of corn carefully on top of one of the intact bags.

“Scott,” he responded, getting his bearings back just enough for this voice to not sound strangled and weak. “Thanks. We haven’t been shopping for a while and I guess my eyes were bigger than my arms.”

Derek laughed, his eyes warm. “I was heading inside anyway. It’s no big deal.” Scott remembered an empty ground floor apartment and moving vans outside the building but hadn’t actually seen the new tenants themselves.

“You moved into the two-bedroom across from us last week,” Scott said, and Derek nodded. “You liking the neighborhood so far?”

“So far, yeah,” Derek responded, picking up the last of the fallen groceries. “Streets are quiet, the neighbors are very nice.” At this, he indicated Scott with a nod of his head and a raised eyebrow that Scott chose to interpret as flirty. “Plus the schools in the area are decent. I have a toddler starting pre-K soon.”

Scott’s stomach dropped. Well, of course Tall, Dark, and Handsome had a kid. He was likely even married, despite the lack of a ring (Scott had checked--he’d gotten burned before). Of course the perfect guy for Scott would be straight. He’d forgotten for a moment that the universe hated him.

They stood, Derek helping lift the bags gingerly into Scott’s arms. “You need help getting upstairs?” he asked, charming smile still in place.

Scott shook his head, and offered what he hoped was a friendly smile and not a disappointed grimace back. “I’ve got it from here. Thanks for the rescue.”

“Any time.” Derek turned to head toward his own apartment, but turned back to him. “Hey, I know it’s last minute, but I’m having a housewarming party tomorrow night. 7 p.m., you’re welcome to stop by. It would be nice to have a friendly face there that I’m not related to.”

Completely thrown off, Scott scrambled to remember what he was supposed to be doing tomorrow. “Uh, well, I work--tomorrow, I mean,” he stuttered. But, um. After. I’ll be free after. I get out at nine.”

Derek smiled, wide and open. “Great,” he said. “I’ll see you there, then.” With that, he walked off. Scott stared after him until he got into his apartment.

He didn’t run up the stairs, but he definitely moved at a brisk pace.

“Stiles!” he shouted as he got into the apartment he shared with his best friend, fumbling with the keys and dropping the bags just inside the door. “STILES!”

Stiles’ head popped out of the doorway of his bedroom, dark circles under his eyes, glare leveled in Scott’s direction. “Jesus, Scott, what?”

Scott felt bad for a moment, remembering that tonight was Stiles’ overnight shift, and he probably would have been asleep for at least another hour or two, but the feeling passed as words spilled out of his mouth. “Hot guy--downstairs--deputy uniform,” he gasped out, trying to catch his breath enough to form an actual sentence.

Stiles frowned. “You mean the dude who moved into 1c last week?” he asked, exiting the room fully. He shuffled in the direction of the kitchen, clearly resigned to being awake. Scott nodded frantically, his breath still coming in gasps. Stiles rolled his eyes. “Dude, inhaler. What about him?”

Scott pulled the little container from his back pocket. He didn’t use it often these days, but he still carried it with him for emergencies. He put it to his lips, took a puff of it, and held it for a few seconds. He felt his chest loosen. “I ran into him downstairs,” he told Stiles, still a little breathless. “I dropped a bag, he helped me pick it up. He was wearing a deputy uniform.”

“Yeah, he works with my dad,” Stiles replied, dropping a filter into the coffeemaker, turning to root around in the cabinet for the coffee grounds. “His family’s lived here for age. He moved away for a while, now he’s back. He was a big-time detective out in New York. Why the hell he’d want to come back here, I have no idea.”

Scott frowned. “You know all this about him already? He’s been here for less than a week. I only just met him myself.” Stiles laughed.

“Just because _you_ don’t leave the house except for work doesn’t mean no one else does,” Stiles said, switching on the coffeemaker. He shot a sidelong glance at Scott. “Plus, you know, my dad called me the second Derek submitted his new address. Apparently I’ve been volunteered for babysitting. Hopefully Derek has enough of a brain in his head to realize that’ll end in tears and recriminations.”

Scott’s heart sank again at the reminder. “So he does have a son.”

“Yeah,” Stiles replied, distracted by a search in the cabinet. He emerged holding a bowl; his hand was halfway to the box of Frosted Flakes when he froze, turning back to Scott. “Oh my god. You’re into him.”

Scott felt his cheeks heat up and he crossed his arms in front of him. “Not that it matters. He’s clearly not playing for my team.”

Stiles gawked at him. “You’re kidding, right? I ran into that guy the other day in front of his apartment. Two words in, my gaydar was going nuts. You are definitely barking up the right tree.”

“You think?” Scott asked him, frowning. He followed Stiles over to the couch, scooped the remote off the coffee table, and collapsed next to where he’d settled in. Scott sighed. “He invited me to some party tomorrow night.”

Stiles grinned at him. “Oh, yeah, the housewarming thing. My dad’s gonna be there, so I have to make an appearance.”

“You’re going?” Scott asked him, feeling almost weak with relief. He’d been planning on going to Derek’s party either way, but he had to admit, the prospect of being in an apartment full of people he didn’t know wasn’t the most appealing thing.

“Yeah, I was gonna make an appearance for my dad, check out the new blood, and escape at the first chance,” Stiles told him, then shrugged, “but if you’ll be there, I could be persuaded to stay. You have work tomorrow, right?” Scott nodded. “So you’ll be late.”

Scott frowned. “Uh, yeah. Why?”

He could practically feel Stiles’ grin growing more evil. “I’m gonna have at least two whole hours to grill your future new boyfriend.”

Scott glared daggers at him. “Don’t you fucking dare, Stiles,” he hissed, then deflated sullenly. “And he’s not my boyfriend. He’s almost definitely straight. Gaydar isn’t a thing.”

Stiles gasped and brought a hand to his chest, mock-offended. “My gaydar is unparalleled. It’s never been wrong.”

“It’s nonexistent,” Scott argued. “You’ve never been right.”

“I was totally right about Danny from the lacrosse team!” Stiles cried.

Scott rolled his eyes. “You walked in on him making out with that guy Ethan in Coach’s office. That’s not gaydar. That’s literally just finding out.”

“Whatever,” Stiles mumbled. “You guys are getting together, if it’s the last thing I do. This dry spell of yours has lasted way too long.”

“It hasn’t been a dry spell,” Scott protested. “My last relationship ended really badly, you know that.”

Stiles sighed. “Dude, that was three years ago. You have got to get back in the saddle.” He smirked at Scott. “And Derek is one fine stallion.”

Scott grabbed a pillow off the couch behind him and threw it at Stiles’ head. “Shut up.”

As they laughed and turned their attention back to the Netflix home screen that was waiting for their selection, Scott tried not to think too hard about what he was going to wear for Derek’s party.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott makes it to Derek's party. Stiles plays wingman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long delay. my life's been kind of crazy lately and i'm entered into two exchanges that are due next month, so a lot of my time and energy has been going into that. hopefully i can start keeping up with regular updates now.

“Dude, it’s like 7 in the morning.”

Stiles was spread out on Scott’s bed, propping his head on his arms as Scott frantically tore through his closet. Nothing was appealing to him. He’d consider looking through Stiles’ clothes, but he knew all he’d find were graphic tees and plaid button-downs. His best friend’s style was unfortunately lacking.

“You promised you’d help me pick out what to wear,” Scott called back, still pushing hangars aside desperately. “You’re the one who said I have a chance with Derek. If by some miracle you’re right, I need to look good.”

“I get that,” Stiles grumbled tiredly. “But why do you need my help at 7 in the fucking morning? The party doesn’t even start for like 12 hours.”

“Because,” Scott replied, coming up for air long enough to glare at his best friend, “you’re gonna pass out and I have to go to work soon. You’ll be at the party by the time I get back. So you have to help now.” He held up a black shirt. “What about this one?”

“I like it,” Stiles replied immediately, barely looking at the shirt. Scott sighed. Stiles sat up exasperatedly. “Seriously, you look good in that one. Wear it with those jeans with the holes in the knees.” He smirked. “He won’t be able to stop staring at your ass, trust me.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Go to bed.”

“Finally.” As Stiles levered himself off the bed and walked over to the door, he clapped Scott on the shoulder. “Dude. Relax. He’s gonna love you. And if he doesn’t, his loss.”

After he left, Scott sighed and dropped the shirt on his bed, turning to his dresser to look for the jeans.

He just hoped Stiles was right.

\---

His shift at the clinic that day was possibly the longest of his life.

Scott loved his job. When his classes were over for the summer, he happily picked up as many extra hours Dr. Deaton could give him--an eagerness he was now regretting as the clock slowly ticked its way to 9 o’clock. Even feeding the newborn kittens they’d gotten a couple days ago didn’t make the day any better for him.

He just wanted to talk to Derek again.

Alan was a smart, sharp man--he noticed Scott’s distraction almost immediately.

“Is everything okay?” he asked the second time he had to stop Scott from putting dog food in the cat bowls. “It’s not like you to be this checked out.”

“I’m fine, I’m sorry,” Scott groaned, getting the right bag from the corner. “I met this guy last night and I’m seeing him again tonight, my head’s just all over the place.

Alan’s eyebrows rose.

“You have a date?” he asked, smiling. “Well, that’s certainly been a long time coming. I’m happy for you.”

Scott felt his cheeks heat up. “It’s not really a date. We just ran into each other last night outside our building and he invited me to his housewarming. It might not even be anything.”

“Hence the nerves,” Alan deduced, nodding. He frowned suddenly. “Wait, you’re...not talking about the Hale boy? Derek?”

Scott gaped. “You know him?” he asked, exasperated. He threw his hands up in frustration. “Did I miss a freaking memo? How am I the only one who doesn’t know this guy?”

Alan laughed. “His mother is a good friend of mine,” he explained. “She told me her youngest son was moving back. I don’t know the young man very well, but if he’s anything like his mother, then you have good taste.”

“He has a son, so I’m not even sure if he, uh, plays for my team,” Scott told him, deflating. “I’m probably getting my hopes up for nothing.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have too much insight into the situation,” Alan said, looking regretful. “I could ask Talia--his mother, about it, if you want…?”

“God, no,” Scott gasped. “Thanks, but I think the only thing worse than getting shut down by this guy would be getting shut down by his _mom_.”

“Understandable,” Alan agreed, nodding. “Well, if he gives you any trouble, you let me know.” He frowned again. “If, if any of them give you trouble. Tell me.”

Confused, Scott opened his mouth to ask what on earth Alan could have meant, but was interrupted by the bell above the front door.

He’d completely forgotten about the exchange by the time his shift was over.

\---

He’d left his clothes in a bag in his car--he wanted as much time with Derek as he could get, so he wanted to avoid having to go upstairs to change. He changed quickly in the bathroom at the clinic, running out with a shouted farewell to his boss.

The drive back home took as long as it always did but that night it felt longer.

He knew it was a bad idea, letting himself get so worked up, but this was the first guy who’d really caught his eye since the breakup, and he couldn’t help himself. Even if Derek had zero interest in him, this had to be a good thing, right? Getting back in the saddle, like Stiles said.

Oh, God--Stiles. He’d been at Derek’s apartment for at least an hour now. Who knew what he was telling Derek?

Scott pressed a little harder on the gas.

\---

The party was rocking--or as rocking as a small housewarming could get.

There weren’t too many familiar faces in the crowd, and Scott picked Stiles out of it almost immediately, chatting with his dad in a far corner of the room.

“Scotty!” Stiles cried when he saw Scott, cheeks pink--no doubt thanks to the beer in his hand.

Scott grinned. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Ask me again two beers from now,” Stiles replied. “You seen Derek yet?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Sheriff Stilinski coughed and looked away.

Scott frowned at him. “Please just tell me you didn’t embarrass me.”

“Dude,” Stiles said, looking wounded. He glanced around to see if there was anyone within earshot and dropped his voice. “I am the best wingman ever to wing. I’ve been talking you up all night. Trust me, if Derek doesn’t love you after tonight, then he’s blind _and_ stupid.”

“I think that’s my cue to mingle,” the sheriff said suddenly, clearly trying not to laugh. “You boys have a good night. Just...try not to scare my new deputy off? I like this one.”

He walked off, and Scott turned back to Stiles. “I hope you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right, Scotty,” Stiles sang, then looked over Scott’s shoulder. “Prepare for your proof.” He slipped away before Scott could stop him.

Scott turned to find Derek approaching him, warm smile on his face.

“Scott, you made it,” Derek said, reaching out and shaking his hand. Scott could feel the blush rising on his cheeks and fought to keep it down. Blushing like a schoolgirl probably wouldn’t help his case if Stiles had been waxing poetic about him all night.

“I heard you met my roommate,” he said. “I’m really sorry for whatever he did.”

Derek’s smile faltered for half a second before it shined bright again. Damn it, Stiles. “He was...colorful. He obviously cares about you. Emphatically.”

“He can be a little much,” Scott agreed. “So, how do you like working at the Sheriff’s department?”

Derek looked relieved at the change of topic. “So far, so good. There’s a lot of good people there.”

As Scott listened to Derek gush over his new job, he thought--maybe Stiles hadn’t ruined his chances after all.

\---

Scott would have liked the night to go on forever, but around midnight, Stiles drunkenly tumbled off the coffee table, where he’d been attempting to make a toast, and it was clear that their evening was over.

“I’m so sorry about him,” Scott groaned as he hauled a half-unconscious Stiles across the living room toward the door.

But if Derek seemed bothered by the drunken mess that was Scott’s roommate, it didn’t show on his face. “No, it’s okay. This is definitely one of the most memorable housewarmings I’ve thrown. I’m just glad you don’t have to take him far. I kind of feel sorry for the day he’s about to have though.”

“He’ll be appropriately regretful in the morning,” Scott promised him. He paused, hand on the frame of the open door. “Thank you, for inviting us. It was a nice night.”

Derek smiled, looking down at his feet before meeting Scott’s eyes again. “It was really nice meeting you, Scott. Don’t be a stranger.”

Scott nodded wordlessly, and dragged Stiles out of the apartment toward the elevator that would take them upstairs.

“Scott,” he mumbled as they went, “Scotty, he is sooooo into you. You’re gonna get married and have babies and finally get over...that guy. Whasshisname.” 

Scott laughed. “Okay, Stiles.” They got into the elevator, and when they paused for the ride, Stiles reached over and clapped his free hand onto Scott’s shoulder, turning him so they were facing each other.

“You have been way too sad lately,” Stiles told him. “You’re gonna be happy. He’s gonna make you happy. I can tell. I know these things.”

“So you’re psychic?” Scott asked, amused.

Stiles nodded. “Yup. Super psychic. My predictions are never wrong.”

Scott smiled at him fondly. “Here’s hoping.”

That night, Scott fell asleep to dreams of Stiles’ prediction coming true.

It was the best dream he’d had in a long while.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY this took so long. My life has seriously been kicking my ass lately. The east of the story is fully planned out so hopefully updates will come a little more often from now on. Thank you guys so much for sticking with me!
> 
> I wrote a lot of this on the phone and I'm eager to get it out so there may be misspellings and autocorrect fumbles. I'll take another look at it when i get home.

Stiles' morning was, in fact, miserable.

Scott awoke and zombie-walked into the kitchen to find him sitting at the table, hunched over a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee practically as big as his head.

"Good morning, sunshine," Scott greeted brightly, unable to resist the tease (despite his own mild headache lurking at the back of his head since he'd awoken). "Have fun last night?"

"I hate you," Stiles grumbled half-heartedly, taking a tiny sip of his coffee and grimacing. "Did I fall off a table last night or was that a dream?"

Scott laughed. "Almost, but I caught you. And it was just a coffee table." He sat down at the table next to him and stole a sip of the coffee. Stiles growled at him--literally growled--and curled his arm defensively around the cup. "What else do you remember?"

"Not a lot," Stiles admitted, "though I'm sure I made a complete idiot out of myself."

"Derek was very amused," Scott observed, and it was clearly the wrong thing to say; Stiles immediately lifted his head and smirked. "Oh stop it.”

“ _Derek_ was amused, huh?” Stiles repeated. “You two got along _very_ well, from what I remember.”

Scott rolled his eyes, grinning back despite himself. “Yeah, until my roommate made an idiot of himself and I had to drag his drunk ass home.”

“Admit it, I was right,” Stiles said, shrugging carefully. “Derek was totally into you and it was all because your _best friend in the whole world_ is also the best wingman in the whole world.”

“Derek and I having a conversation does not mean he’s ‘into me’,” Scott argued, trying to steal another sip and getting a slap on the wrist for his efforts.

“You had a conversation all night,” Stiles pointed out, waving one hand wildly. “He was making rounds the entire time until you came in, then he didn’t talk to anyone else all night.” He slapped Scott’s hand away from his cup again and pointed angrily at the counter. “There’s more in the pot, get your own fucking cup.”

“So we got along well,” Scott said, getting up from the table and opening the overhead cabinet to find a cup. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

"At your wedding, when I make my best man toast, I'm going to mention how completely oblivious you were," Stiles told him, "And how much of a saint I was to keep trying to open your eyes."

Scott gave him a one-fingered salute and didn't answer.

He couldn't help but hope Stiles was right. He was probably setting himself up for failure--he usually did, with stuff like this--but he couldn't for the life of him quell the little thrill of excitement at the thought of just seeing Derek again. And it wasn't completely impossible that Derek could swing his way. Scott hid his smile behind his coffee cup as he dropped into the chair next to Stiles.

"Somewhere deep in your heart, you know I'm right, Scotty," Stiles continued, "Just wait and see."

\---

It was a quiet day; Scott and Stiles both had off, and while usually a day off with Stiles was anything but quiet, with Stiles still battling his hangover, the day was downright serene. Scott happily watched tv all morning (with the volume very very low; Stiles may have brought his situation upon himself, but Scott wasn't cruel) and enjoyed his day off. He even considered knocking on Derek's door to see if he wanted to hang out.

It took Scott an hour to work up the nerve.

He snuck out of the front door as silently as he could; if Stiles caught him going over Derek's, he'd never hear the end of it. The second he closed the door behind him and turned, he ran smack dab into a naked woman.

Well--"naked" wasn't really right, but she might as well have been. She had on a pair of shorts that were skintight and might have actually been underwear, and a lacey pink bra that just barely covered her. She was pretty, dark brown hair falling in waves to her shoulders, and she clearly worked out. If Scott were into women, he'd probably go for her. She was carrying a garbage bag in one hand and when she realized that Scott was standing there, she froze, looking completely mortified.

"Uh--" she stammered, then glanced down at herself and grimaced. "Lydia promised me no one would be out yet. Oh, God."

"At..." Scott took out his phone, "One in the afternoon?"

She laughed nervously. "She said everyone would all be hungover from that party in 1A last night."

"You're not wrong," Scott conceded with a smile, "But I'm a naturally early riser, so here I am."

She shifted from foot to foot, and glanced at the door to the basement, where the garbage room was. "So I'm just gonna--it was nice meeting you."

With that, she quickly left, disappearing through the door to the basement. Scott stood there, still processing what had happened. Lydia Martin was the redhead who lived in 3C; Scott knew far more about her life and habits than was probably healthy, thanks to Stiles' hopeless crush on her. Scott made a mental note to try not to mention the half naked woman coming out of her apartment. No need to break his heart.

Besides, it would be entertaining to watch Stiles hear the news in person. Karmic.

Scott sighed, and got back on track, continuing his journey to Derek's apartment door. Butterflies fluttering in his stomach, he stopped in front of the door, staring at the gleaming gold 1A affixed to the wood and tried to work up the nerve to knock. He hadn't been this nervous since high school--junior year, when he tried to ask Danny Mahealani to prom and got shot down gently but firmly. It had just made his crush worse. He really did have terrible taste in men.

He took a deep breath and raised his hand to knock just as the door opened.

He jumped, startled, as a beautiful dark-skinned woman appeared. She clearly wasn't expecting anyone at the door, and jumped when she saw him, too, and there were a few awkward moments as they stood there, just staring.

Scott shook himself out of it first. "Um, sorry--I was looking for Derek."

"He's still sleeping, I think," she told him, "I could go wake him up? I was just heading out."

"No," Scott replied hurriedly, "I'll just come back later."

She suddenly smiled. "Hey, you're the guy he was hanging out with last night. It's awesome that he's making friends. He's...not really a people person. Scott, right?"

Scott laughed weakly. "That's me."

"Well, it's nice meeting you," she said, holding out her hand. Scott took it and shook. "I'm Braeden. I feel better knowing Derek isn't being a total loner."

"Yeah," Scott said, for lack of anything better to say. "I'll just...come back later."

Without giving Braeden the chance to respond, he turned and marched back to his apartment door; he'd never unlocked it so quickly in his life.

Once inside, he locked it behind him and leaned back against it, trying not to cry. So Derek was straight--it wasn't like Scott didn't know it was a possibility. He was an adult. He could handle it.

It didn't stop him from having to hold back tears.

Fuck his life, seriously.

**Author's Note:**

> come bug me on [the tumblr](http://ladybubblegum.tumblr.com)
> 
> Warning: the comments on this work are VERY image-heavy and might be slow to load. There's lots of ugly and possibly triggery stuff in there, courtesy of our lovely anon, so tread carefully. The images are from me though, don't worry.


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